


Most Lovely, Most Blue

by pipelliot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Arthur's Reign, Character Death, Depression, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide, Unrequited Love, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipelliot/pseuds/pipelliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Merlin/Arthur. Gaius betrayed many sorcerers during the Great Purge. A daughter of one such sorcerer turns Gaius young again as revenge...Gaius' behavior is destructive; he's not used to the passions and problems of youth, most especially his unexpected longing for Merlin, who's already in love with Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Most Lovely, Most Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted over [here](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/32238.html?thread=32817134#t32817134) at the Meme under the title " **Primeveire** ". I know that I twisted around this prompt rather shamefully to fit my own selfish needs and I'm still not convinced I did it at all justice! (It's kind of my dream in life that someone someday will.) Only ever (poorly) read over myself, all of the (I'm sure) many mistakes are all on me.
> 
> ( **Please please please check tags for warnings. ♥)**

(Her name was Primeveire, but her friends called her Prim.

She was the daughter of a farmer, a common serf who tilled the lands of the lords and the knights in exchange for the very simplest of livings.

They lived in a tiny, thatched cottage with a hole in the roof which was quite a bother in the winter, but it cleared the smoke for the fire, and that's all that mattered. Her father used to tell her she was like a cat, the way she'd sprawl in front of it. She loved fire, was fascinated by it. She loved the way in which father would snap his fingers, foreign words whispered in the quietest breath, and watching the sparks come alive. She loved when her father told her that the flames danced in her eyes, wishing for all the world that she could see.

Her father told her all about the baby living in Her Majesty's belly, and Prim had thought it a wonderful thing. She wondered if it was a girl or a boy- though His Majesty seemed adamant that it would be a boy. But if Prim was honest, she rather hoped it would be a girl. Her Majesty was positively beautiful, everyone knew that- so Prim would have guessed that the princess would have been very pretty, too. She was excited to see the rainbows of jewels and the extravagant gowns, and if she was honest, she was especially excited by the fact that it was almost like herself and the baby would grow up together.

Prim thought His Majesty to be a little too stern for her particular liking, and Her Majesty was the loveliest Queen in the world, she had no doubt- but Prim just couldn't wait for the new baby to rule the land. She knew that- girl or not- they'd be the best ruler who ever lived.

But then the baby prince was born, and Her Majesty died on the very same day.

And His Majesty was the saddest, angriest person Prim would have guessed had ever lived.

And suddenly, Prim's father grew very, very nervous all of the time. He never used his magic to light the fire, and he slaved in the fields everyday doing positively everything by hand and battered machine. He rarely smiled and he held Prim far too tightly at night, even when it wasn't that cold.

His Majesty- Uther sent the royal guards to steel Prim's father from her in the middle of the night. 

A man named Gaius had taken her aside, kneeling before her and saying that he was sorry. But seeing as her father was being knocked into walls and kicked and being tied up before her very eyes, Prim supposed that he wasn't sorry at all.

In that hour, a total of seven people were rallied up in the courtyard. Some were sorcerers and some were not, though Prim couldn't be sure, and Uther certainly did not care.

And in that hour, a total of seven people were tied to stakes huddled too closely together and standing amongst the same hay.

And Prim watched as her father burned, the flames dancing in his eyes and melting them after it sizzled though his eyelids.

And Prim watched as a total of six other people screamed and cried and popped and sizzled. All in that hour.

So Primeveire- she ran as far away as she could. She learned from the hooded people with golden eyes who were hiding in the forests. She grew and she learned almost every hour of every day. And her sadness and her grief molded into anger, and that was how her magic spurted from her fingertips, and that was how it was born. And Primeveire- she remembered a man with kind eyes and a lying tongue. She remembered a man named Gaius.)  
*

Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Gaius opened his eyes and didn’t understand how he hadn’t been lying soaked in his own blood.

He tried to sit up from the solid stone ground, but immediately crashed down with a thud. It felt like someone was kicking him repeatedly in the chest, like the entire kingdom had put on their fanciest, heaviest boots and competed to see who succeeded in caving his chest in the quickest. His lungs were being pricked by thousands of tiny thorns, he was sure of it. The most lethal poison known to man was being poured down his throat, corroding everything in its path, he could feel it. And he was almost completely certain that his head had exploded.

But when he pulled his hand away from the crown of his head, he found it wasn't bleeding at all, and he pressed his fingers to the scar he could already feel in the midst of stretching and sealing itself shut. That was- odd. He didn't remember casting a spell to do that. It wasn't even in his power to do so. It's not like Gaius could do much more than tilt the lightest bucket quarter filled with water on its side. Everyone knew Gaius was useless when it came to magic, and, of course, most other things.

So Gaius was mildly confused, but as of that particular moment he felt like there was a huge black hole weighing down his stomach and chest making him want to empty whatever contents of his stomach there were. And that was a very scary thing, so he found himself heaving and heaving dryly and to no avail, his heart hammering in his chest, vision blurred and his eyes wide and bulging. 

Gaius knew he was quite the waste of space, as he was so often reminded, but in that moment he had never felt so thoroughly wrong before. Like his entire being was lie, that every breath he took was an abomination, defying the laws of the very universe. Gaius supposed that he felt a sorrow and horror so terrible that he stopped breathing for a whole two minutes.

Three.

Four.

There was a voice. It sounded rather echoed. Gaius thought it was the richest, most beautiful voice he'd ever heard.

"Hello? Is someone- oh my god."

And then there were hands on him, frantic, checking him all over, trying to stand him up and bringing his hands joined beneath his ribcage, pulling sharply inward, as though Gaius were choking. He kept doing it. Gaius supposed it rather hurt. Except he didn't really know how to explain that he wasn't choking, that, rather, he stopped himself from breathing because- well, because it felt like the thing to do.

"Sir- Sir, you're not- you're- shit. Shit, shit, shit." 

The man turned him around in his arms, holding him up with trembling hands by grabbing his shoulders tight enough to bruise. But the man with the perfect blue eyes was rather slight and so when Gaius' legs eventually gave in, the man collapsed to the ground with him.

"Are you- Sir, I don't understand are you- on purpose?"

Gaius saw the panic in those perfect blue eyes, and he wanted to reach out to smooth the furrow between his brows. He looked far too worried and confused and frightened, and Gaius found that he didn't want that. He supposed that no one so terribly beautiful should ever be so frightened.

But before he could say so, the pain and the burning in his lungs finally took hold, and he allowed his eyes to slip shut, and everything to turn blissfully numb.

*  
Gaius would have thought it rather impossible to be in even more pain when he woke for the second time, but despite how his back was cushioned by a proper mattress as opposed to the stone cold ground, when he opened his eyes the light stung terribly and his head felt somehow far, far worse.

When his eyes finally adjusted, Gaius realized he was in the private chambers of the physician's quarters.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

Gaius startled, though at the press of a blessedly cold cloth to his forehead, he turned towards the man from before sitting next to him.

"I was worried,” he said.

The man smiled at him, small and sad, and Gaius could tell he was trying to comfort him somewhat. Gaius noticed the man had dimples. It almost made his heart stutter.

There's no need, he'd wanted to say, but Gaius hadn't trusted his voice just then.

"How are you feeling?"

Gaius found that particular question rather impossible to answer. He tried his hardest to nod convincingly.

"Alfred should be here soon. It's just- he was rushed to a birth earlier, and I've not seen him since. But he shouldn't be too long, I'm sure."

Gaius didn't know who Alfred was, and if he was honest he didn't want to. He rather liked being all alone with the man and his perfect blue eyes. But he nodded again anyway.

"Can you tell me your name?"

He shook his head. Gaius suspected if he tried to speak, his throat would bleed, and that would only cause the man to worry.

"Oh." The man's brows furrowed again at this, the worried look back in his eyes anyway.

Gaius didn't like it. Especially since it was caused by him.

"Oh! Water, I'll get you some drinking water, hold on,” said the man with a reassuring smile, and with that he was gone once more.

Gaius really, really didn't like that.

His breaths were getting deeper, frantic, more panicked until he stopped altogether, until his face began to turn undoubtedly red, then perhaps even blue... One. Two.

"Here you-" 

Gaius faintly heard the smashing of glass and soon hands were cupping his face, and the man with perfect blue eyes looked so worried, so panicked that Gaius finally gasped for air, even though it took all that he was to do so, even though it was wrong.

The man breathed a sigh in relief and slumped onto the bed to sit beside him. He balanced his elbows on his knees and dragged his hands across his face, holding it for a while before finally looking Gaius in the eye and saying,

"I'm sorry. My knowledge is… rather very limited, as you might have seen. I don't know when-" he trailed off, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. His profile was stunning, Gaius couldn't help but notice. His cheekbones were the sharpest Gaius had ever seen, and his skin was perfectly pale and positively flawless.

The man suddenly perked up, putting a small smile on his face, saying "I'm Merlin, by the way," and sticking his hand out to shake before belatedly realizing that Gaius could hardly move, and looked the tiniest bit embarrassed while he settled for patting Gaius' limp hand instead. The touch made Gaius' very skin tingle. Suddenly he didn't want anything more in the world than to clasp the man- Merlin’s- hand in his own and never let go.

"You should rest,” said Merlin. “I'm going to stay right here, though, all right?"

And with Merlin's hand lying within inches of his, Gaius closed his eyes against the harsh light and let himself go limp.  
*  
He woke for the third time to the sound of voices outside the chambers. He decided he wouldn’t open his eyes just then, so he could focus on listening as closely as he could.

"It was- Alfred, it was like he was doing it on purpose."

"Merlin, you can't be sure-"

"No, I know. It's just- it was in his eyes. Like he was... devoid of anything other than sheer determination to-"

"-Breathe?"

" _Arthur-_ "

"Sir Merlin, if I may, His Highness is probably right."

After a pause, Merlin said quietly "Yeah. Yes, no, of course."

Gaius knew they were talking about him, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel sick.

Gaius abruptly sat up, startling the person next to him and on wobbling legs, made his way as quickly as he could down the steps, ignoring the person's harried protests.

"What's going on?" The room was spinning and he was so incredibly dizzy. He cursed his hoarse, weak voice. 

He noticed that three heads were turning to look at him, but he only focused on Merlin.

"Merlin? Merlin, what's going on? Who are these people?"

Merlin came over to him instantly, grabbing a hold of both his hands where his fists had clenched unknowingly. His eyes were soft and warm as he loosened Gaius' shaking fists and held his hands tightly instead.

"It's all right. It's all right, I promise."

Gaius felt himself sway, feeling somewhat soothed and less angry now that Merlin was touching him, and practically slumped into him. Merlin looped an arm around his waist and brought him to sit in a chair by the fire and sitting in one himself next to him.

"This is Alfred, the Court Physician," he said, gesturing to the eldest looking man with slight silver running through curling red hair and kind eyes, "And this is- well, this is King Arthur," he said, gesturing to a blond with eyes focused purely on Merlin and not quite so perfectly blue.

"No, that's not right," said Gaius. Because it wasn't.

"Excuse me?"

"He is not the physician and he most certainly is not His Majesty."

Merlin's eyes narrowed, curious, but not unkind. He raised a hand towards the blond when it looked like he would interfere.

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked gently.

“Gaius.”

Merlin promptly stood out of his chair, sending it screeching across the stone, backing away with eyes blown wide and hand coming up to cover his mouth. Gaius could see the blond- Arthur- taking an instant step towards him, expression protective and concerned. He hadn’t been looking at Gaius at all, Gaius noticed, his gaze sorely fixed on Merlin the whole time.

Merlin had backed away from Gaius like his very skin was made of a thousand needles and he’d just been pierced by a couple dozen. Merlin must hate him, Gaius supposed. He felt sick.

Eventually, Merlin released the grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and came to sit back down in his chair, dragging it slightly closer. Gaius noticed that Merlin seemed very uncomfortable and that his hands were shaking. He also couldn't help noticing how their knees almost touched.

"You- Gaius, you look very familliar, I must tell you. Please forgive my reaction, it was rude of me." 

"Not at all," said Gaius, trying his best to smile. 

Merlin nodded and echoed his smile, except of course it was far more lovely than his own.

"Gaius," he said, careful, as though not to startle him, "I need to ask you something."

Gaius nodded.

"Will you promise to be truthful?"

He nodded.

"Do you- when you stopped breathing, did you do it on purpose?"

Gaius didn't want to answer that question. He felt very ill indeed. He supposed he could've lied, but he found he never ever wanted to lie to Merlin, so he said nothing at all.

"Merlin, I don't think-" said the eldest man, but Merlin quickly shushed him, "I know, Alfred, I know, just let me-" Merlin sighed.

"Alright. Another time, I suppose. Gaius, do you have a place to stay?" he asked instead.

Gaius knew he had no one. Of that he was positively sure.

He shook his head.

"Okay, well," Merlin looked to Alfred, who nodded, and said "you can stay here, then."

*

"I had a friend called Gaius, once, you know," said Merlin.

The two of them were lounging on the rug in front of the fireplace, Merlin with his legs crossed and Gaius just opposite, both nursing mugs of warmed milk.

"You're very similar. At least, you look very similar," he continued. He looked like he did when he tried to comfort Gaius some days before, like he was trying to be light and happy for Gaius' sake when really he was worried or frightened or, in this case, Gaius supposed, sad.

"How?" he asked.

"Well, he was quite-" Merlin laughed, "He was quite old, actually. I don't- I don't mean to offend you, of course, it's just- it's in your eyes. I see him in your eyes." Merlin ducked his ahead a little, shy, perhaps, but Gaius could still hear the curiosity in his tone. "They're very- they hold a lot of wisdom, I should say." He smiled.

"I think your eyes are beautiful," said Gaius.

But that must’ve been the wrong thing to say because Merlin's smile dropped instantly.

He hoped Merlin would blush in that lovely way he did. Instead, Gaius had only made him even more uncomfortable. Gaius found he began to rather hate himself for it.

After a long stretch of silence, Merlin said “He um- he died. My friend, that is. Some years ago."

Gaius nodded his sympathies. He really was sad for Merlin. He didn't like it when Merlin was sad. He wished he could have fixed it. But he knew his smile wasn't half as beautiful and his eyes weren't half as bright.

"You're very quiet," said Merlin, smile slightly strained but still warm, "But I bet you're really clever."

Gaius smiled. He wasn't clever at all, of course, but Merlin thought so. That meant Merlin must've liked him, and that made Gaius feel a little less empty.

"My friend was really clever, too."

Gaius' smile dropped immediately.

"I am not your friend," he said.

Merlin nodded.

*

"Sometimes he gets so angry. But most of the time he just- he just _sits there_ , hunched in on himself. And his eyes- most of the time they're just so sad but then sometimes- he'd frighten me into thinking he was _dead_ , they’d be so empty."

Gaius hadn’t spoken for a number of days now. He spends most of his time in the farthest corner of Alfred’s quarters. He sits and he holds his knees closely to his far too heavy chest, and he supposes that he does hunch in on himself a bit, if he’s honest. 

Gaius supposed he could’ve done a lot more around the place. Sometimes he passed potions and cloths and things to Alfred when he was working, and sometimes he went as far as the pump to fetch water. Merlin never wanted him to stray too far, though, and he said he’d rather Gaius tried not to talk to people while he was out, however seldom that was.

So Gaius didn’t do much. But thinking, Gaius found, was quite a bother. It was a path that inevitably led to nowhere, or very dark places. So he did not think because, if Gaius was perfectly honest, he was rather afraid of the dark. (And rather terrified of the nothingness.)

They did not tip-toe around him so much anymore. It was almost like he was finally invisible. Except, of course, they still talked about him- often while he was in still the room, and more often than not when his eyes were wide open and his form visibly stiff and aware.

Gaius supposed his stares grew a little too distant and gave the illusion that he just wasn’t listening.

"Except," Merlin was saying, "Except when he. Um."

Merlin was ducking his head slightly, embarrassed, a rosy colour on his cheeks.

"Go on," urged Arthur.

"He tells me how… beautiful he thinks I am. Once he told me that my eyes were the most perfect blue he'd ever seen."

The silence was left unbroken for a long time, until Merlin finally spoke.

"Arthur, do you trust me?"

"Of course I bloody trust you."

"Then, please, believe me when I say that its him. It is. I'm sure of it."

"How old is he?" asked Arthur.

"He can't be more than seventeen. Why?"

"I don't suppose he knew Hunith back then?"

"I hardly think so, Arthur,” said Merlin, “But he doesn't sound as if he knows anybody. It’s like- he thinks knows some things about Camelot, and about himself, I suppose, but he’s hardly- he’s not even like a real person. But- no, no that’s wrong. He is. Of course he is. God, How could I even say such a thing?”

Gaius wanted to tell Merlin that he was right, actually, because Gaius did hardly feel like a real person at all. He also wanted to hold Merlin in his arms and tell him not to be so hard on himself, especially on Gaius’ behalf. He wanted to tell him that Gaius wasn’t worth it, and he wanted to kiss him and tell him just how wonderful he thought Merlin was.

But he didn’t say any of these things, because he didn’t want to speak, because it felt wrong. And he didn’t say any of these things because he knew for certain that Merlin wouldn’t like to hear them, because he didn’t believe it, and especially not from Gaius himself.

“But he's ill. I think he's really ill,” said Merlin, barely above a whisper, “I worry about him, Arthur."

“I know,” said Arthur, sighing.

And at the sound of rustling fabric and quick footsteps, Gaius watched Merlin being enveloped in Arthur's tight embrace, swaying them both gently, Arthur hushing him, pressing a kiss just below Merlin's ear and nuzzling his neck. Gaius could hear Merlin's stifled, quick breaths, and he felt the black pit again, weighing down his stomach as though it was the very world itself.

*

There were some things that Merlin and Arthur _didn’t_ do while he was in the room.

Like when Alfred had sent Gaius to the forest nearby to collect herbs and Gaius had returned to find the door of his quarters slightly open, hearing the sound of moaning coming from inside.

At first He had thought Merlin was hurt, that someone was hurting him, his hand reaching immediately to his belt and to the knife Gaius had stolen. (He had been looking at it for a while.)

But then he heard groaning of the word _yes_. Repeatedly, even. And it was Merlin’s voice, low and breathless.

He peered inside, careful not to let the door creak as he did so.

Merlin was being pushed up against Alfred’s desk by Arthur, knuckles white from where they were braced on the corners, and head bent to kiss him desperately.

Arthur kissed him back with just as much urgency, holding Merlin’s head in his hands and licking into his mouth so ferociously that if Gaius didn’t know any better, he’d think it were the end of the world and that it was the last chance ever to do so.

Though still clothed, Arthur kept rutting his hips against Merlin’s, Merlin groaning as Arthur moved to trail kisses down his lean neck, and using his hands to stretch the fabric covering his collarbone. Fisting his hands in Merlin’s tunic, Arthur licked and sucked hard enough to bruise, making Merlin loop his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips wildly and without rhythm.

Arthur moved his hands down to Merlin’s hips, resting his head against Merlin’s neck, and reaching a hand into Merlin’s breeches.

It was at this point that Gaius made for his own, palming himself through his own breeches and trying very hard not to make a sound.

He imagined it was his hand around Merlin instead of Arthur’s. That it was his name Merlin panted into his mouth, and his mouth that Merlin kissed so hungrily.

Something smashed hard against the floor, and it was then that Merlin bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and said, breathless, “Arthur- Arthur, stop we can’t,” before Arthur licked the blood from Merlin’s mouth and drew in his bottom lip, sucking gently and tenderly as opposed to the desperate way he was before.

“He’ll be back any minute-“ said Merlin when they came up for air.

“I don’t care,” said Arthur through gritted teeth, before going back to fisting Merlin, pumping hard and fast, pressing their sweating foreheads together and both squeezing their eyes shut tight.

Merlin let him, thrusting his hips faster and faster to meet Arthur’s hand, gaining a rhythm before Gaius watched Merlin go tense, biting his lip once more before relaxing into Arthur’s hold. Then it was Arthur’s turn to deflate, removing his hand from Merlin breeches and licking his own fingers into his mouth.

Merlin scrunched up his nose but giggled at the gesture, pulling Arthur to him and kissing him softly this time.

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist and kissed him once on the nose, then on the cheek, and one for each eyelid, before kissing the bow of Merlin’s upper lip again and saying, “I miss you.”

Merlin sighed, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands, stroking Arthur’s cheekbones under his dark ringed eyes and saying, quietly, “You’ve not been sleeping.”

Arthur nodded, smiling self-deprecatingly as though in anticipation of Merlin’s teasing before saying again, simply, “I miss you.”

But Merlin didn’t tease him. Instead he kissed Arthur again and again as though he was the most precious person on earth.

And it was then that Gaius, trembling all over, decided to leave.

*

"Do you love Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"I asked you," said Gaius, once again dragging his knobby knees closer to his chest, “do you love Arthur?"

Merlin froze, abandoning the box of dusty old books to sit beside Gaius. Gaius noticed the dark rings under his eyes and decided he didn't much like them at all.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Merlin.

"Because I think you do."

Merlin wrapped his arms around his own knees. He looked sad now, as well as tired.

"I don't think it matters, Gaius." he said.

"Does Arthur love you?"

Merlin laid his head to rest on his arms for a moment, breathing deeply before looking at the wall right before them both and saying,

"It doesn't matter."

"I think he does.”

Merlin smiled at that, though it was much sadder than it should have been, for a person in love. 

Gaius thought of pretty Queen Guinevere who shared chambers with Arthur and supposed he understood why.

"No one loves me," said Gaius.

"Don't say that," said Merlin, because Merlin was the loveliest person Gaius had ever met.

"It's hardly a surprise," said Gaius. "I am very wrong, you know."

"How do you mean?" Merlin narrowed his eyes, he looked confused.

"I shouldn't be here," said Gaius.

"And where should you be?"

"I just shouldn't be here. I shouldn't exist. I shouldn't breathe. It’s not right.”

"Gaius, are you-" began Merlin. He didn't sound shocked, not at all. He did, however, sound worried. It made Gaius' heart stutter.

"I should be dead," said Gaius. “Yes. Yes, I think I’ll die.”

And he could see the moisture building in Merlin's eyes. Gaius found it made them sparkle even more than usual.

*

After that, for the next few weeks, Merlin left most of his work to his apprentice so he could stay with Gaius almost all of the time.

Because, see- Merlin was the official Court Sorcerer of all Albion. And he was destined to be by Arthur’s side for all eternity. 

And because, see- when they would eventually leave their mortal shells behind them they would live on in the written word and the less accurate telling of children’s stories. Parents would tell their children of the adventures of the Once and Future King and his most trusted advisor, and their children would pass it on to their children and so the cycle would never end. 

Their names would live on side by side for all eternity, Gaius understood that now.

And so, Gaius- he often broke things with his scrawny arms, and he smashed the most fragile of things to pieces with his bare fists. He shattered his ankle from kicking the solid stone walls, and he wore a sling when Arthur had twisted his arm too harshly behind his back after Gaius had aimed a punch at him for laughing and telling Merlin he was useless.

And often, King Arthur would come by the physician’s quarters and help Merlin and Alfred search for ways to fix him. Because Gaius was very ill, and Gaius needed to be fixed.

And they would stay up late into the night, reading fancy, dusty old books, and they’d fall asleep at the desks, heads leaning against each other.

Merlin told Gaius that the reason he felt so wrong was because he was. Except, he didn’t say it exactly like that, of course, because Merlin was the loveliest person Gaius had ever met.

Frankly, It made him want to tear out his own heart and punch the walls until he bled. (And wouldn’t that just make a mess?)

Merlin told him that they had found a sorceress, who, to put it lightly, didn’t like Gaius very much. He said that Gaius died a long time ago. He said that this sorceress brought him back to life because she knew it would make him ill. He told him that the sorceress wanted Gaius to suffer like she had. He told him that that was the reason Gaius felt so ill, so wrong. Because he was right before, because he wasn’t supposed to be here.

But Merlin, he told him that the sorceress had died. And so it was alright, that Gaius could stay, that Merlin would find a cure and make everything feel right, he promised, he swore.

Merlin told him about the Gaius he knew. He told him that he met his Gaius in his later years, and that Gaius had been the trusted Court Physician in Camelot for many, many years. He told him that his Gaius helped him with his magic when he was only a young, foolish lad in Camelot, that Gaius was probably the reason Merlin was still alive today, despite all his recklessness.

He told him, very carefully, eyes wide and earnest, how his Gaius was like a father to him.

And Gaius had never felt more impossibly ill.

*

His hair was a dusty, dirty brown. 

His skin was blotchy and uneven.

His eyes were sunken, grey, constantly ringed, dark and ugly.

His lips were thin and dry.

He was sickly thin, weak, incapable of most things.

And Merlin, see Merlin- he had the shiniest, raven black hair.

That contrasted his glowing, pale skin.

And his eyes were so alive, the most perfect blue he had ever seen.

And his lips were bowed and plump.

And he was thin, but with wiry muscles and long limbs.

And he was the most beautiful person Gaius had ever met, he was sure.

And Gaius laughed, though he didn’t really want to, because how could anyone love him, let alone anyone like Merlin? And he laughed because when exactly did he start loving Merlin anyway? 

And he laughed because, if he was honest, his chest still felt too heavy all the time, but Merlin made it so in a good way. And sometimes he’d even make it a little lighter.

And he laughed because he loved that, and because Merlin saw him as his father, and so he laughed some more because he was disgusting. And he laughed because his entire existence was wrong. And he laughed because his chest felt far, far too heavy. 

But then he stopped laughing, because he could hardly breathe. And he gasped for air, even though he didn’t really want to.

And what he did instead, because it was what he wanted to do, was he smashed the mirror into pieces with his bare fist. And it bled. And it bled, and it bled, from where shards of glass were jammed into his knuckles and veins.

And so he took his better hand, and he picked the sharpest piece he could find, and as the corners dug into his fingers and palm he dragged it across one wrist as deeply as he could. And he watched as the blood from his palm ran down to join it and it streamed too heavily down the length of his twig-like arms. And he watched how it spurted and stained the bed cloths with blots of vibrant red, and he watched it pool on the ground around his feet.

And so it was with a trembling, blood slick hand he dragged the murky shard of glass over his other wrist. It wasn’t as deep as the first, but it spurted, and that was enough. And it stained his sleeves, and it stained the bed cloths, and it pooled on the ground around his feet.

And it stung and like nothing Gaius had ever felt.

He bled dry and he did not breathe and his eyelids fell shut for the final time.

And it was right.

*

Merlin and Alfred had fallen asleep at the desk, mere moments away from finding what they were positive was the cure. And so when they woke, they finished and perfected it, smiling and buzzing with excitement and energy in what felt like the first time in months as they ate their breakfasts and waited for Gaius to emerge from the private chambers.

And waited.

And waited.

And so it was roughly noon when Merlin creaked open the door of the physician quarters’ private chambers to find young Gaius slumped forward on the blood soaked, glass littered floorboards, arms flung either side of him, skin much, much too pale and wrists slashed cleanly on both arms.

And it was at that time that they both bandaged him up and applied pressure in all the right places, even though his heart had stopped beating long before, and even though his small chest had ceased to rise for hours.

And it was at that time that Merlin found a note on the bed where it wasn’t soaked, and promptly sank to his knees.

His Majesty King Arthur came and brought Merlin away from Gaius. He brought him to his old chambers- those they more or less shared during his and Merlin’s Princely and servant years- and held Merlin for days. Through the anger and the tears and the nightmares, he held him impossibly close and ensured him that it wasn’t Merlin’s fault, that of course it wasn’t. He kissed him and tried to convince him to sleep. And it took all that he had to forgive the man responsible for the rings under Merlin’s eyes, for the way they were ridden with horror and guilt- for how he never smiled, and for how his bones were much too sharp. 

He found it near impossible to forgive the man who died at his own hand and left Merlin feeling as though it were his own.

And he swore to burn the note that read

_Merlin,_

_You are the most precious person on this earth and I have never loved another.  
But I know now for sure that your heart will forever belong to another far more worthy than I._

_I hope I’ve not ruined the man you knew and loved in the right ways._

_Yours always,  
Gaius_

28.06.2012


End file.
